Unsent
by Verdot
Summary: More of a collection of short stories than one cohesive story. FFX's linear nature helps with some consistency. Auron and Yuna centric, mostly exploring their strange almost father and daughter dynamic. Some playing with tense, be advised.
1. Dont Ask, Dont Tell

Yuna wanted to ask him so many things.

She remembered her father enough to remember what it was like to have him, and what it was like to not have him. There was honor, always honor, to the way his stories were told. Even Kimahri, a Ronso with no real need to be attached to her father but through Yevon, even he spoke with such admiration rumbling deep in his throat.

But Sir Auron, there was something else there. He was a guardian. And if there was any lesson she had learned in her short span of time on Spira, it was that a guardian that wasn't close to you was not really a guardian at all.

She wanted to know her father's laughter. But Auron was, if anything, quiet. He said what he needed to. And she was too polite to ask anything.

She was always too polite, and it burned in her throat.

"Yuna, we're moving."

She'd been staring again, in the way that let her mind settle, prepare. It wasn't preparation for death--no not yet--but soaking in the life while she had it. Maybe that was why Tidus was so fascinating. He was so very lively.

"Sir Auron..."

He turned and that one eye of his--oh she wanted to ask what happened with the other one--affixed to the one eye that was not her mother's. Having one eye working properly, he had to make a choice on which one to look at on a person. It was one question, maybe.

He raised a hand, but put it back down at his side. _Not yet._ It was an answer enough for now.


	2. Not Porcelain

She will not break.

Auron knows this because he knows her stance when the fight is over. She is timid when it begins, but she is still young. Not that he ever bowed, but he was hardly a summoner. They as guardians are unequal to the strength of potential that lies within her. The strength.

This is why they are unequal to her, in his mind. This is why he says nothing, instead waiting for her to make a choice. Auron will not let ghosts determine fate.

She will not break. He wants to tell Wakka this, especially. Yuna is not his little sister. She is the child and sibling of no one. Even as she gathers them around her, to be her shell, she knows not to hide within it.

Unlike some. But Auron does not want _those_ images to come to mind.

"Maybe you should rest." Lulu this time, for all the self-possession in her form, she will not let go of a memory. He would pity the man that has to shoulder that, but all his pity dried out with the dust of his original form. He cannot even pity Yuna.

"No, not now. I will. Thank you." He wishes they would not panic in the small ways. A flash of blue, violet, green... people are too apt to panic like that. Her one eye is steady, always looking ahead and the other is vivacious. She is alive. She is not porcelain.

"We must keep moving," he says, but without the urgency of a normal person. It is firm because he is already broken. There are no worries about him breaking.

She smiles at him with Braska's smile, and for the briefest of instants, he wants to sit down and tell her to go far from here. He would send her to the Dream, in an instant like this.

But their conversations are never really spoken. Auron likes to think that maybe with this indirect speech and offset formality, it gives them an understanding. Tidus has cleaved to him in a way the boy does not even want to recognize, but Yuna is stronger and will not resort to such things.

_Then nothing will be left behind._


	3. We Are All Made of Stars

When fiends die, Yuna thinks it's beautiful.

She never tells anyone this, because sometimes she wonders if she's becoming a little more morbid each day. Her thanatophilia can't be all that bad, considering she really is still so young. And it isn't the method of death, or the reason. Releasing angry souls is noble, but it isn't beautiful.

No, it's the pyreflies.

Yuna thinks they look like stars, close enough for someone to touch. When she dances, they cascade around her, veiling her in her own night sky. A part of her is inexplicably sorrowful, and she tries to hide it in her veil of stars. Sometimes she wishes she had a coat like Auron's so she could hide her face and body and everything that would indicate how she's feeling.

They are both watching the pyreflies.

Wakka and Tidus are being rowdy, keeping up the laughter that she lives on more than anything else. Lulu looks grumpy, but Yuna knows she's just keeping her cool distance, like she always does. If either of the boys were to scrape their knees, she would be right there to scold and heal them. And Kimahri is doing like he always does. He thinks Ronso things she would love to understand.

No one notices as Auron cleanly slays the weak fiend. He does that often, she notes. They don't know that she watches all of them, and protects them with her prayers. The Aeons she has now can feel every whispered prayer so that her guardians will not turn into stars too soon.

_No, the Farplane cannot have them yet._

"You should go join them." She almost doesn't notice him speaking. She wonders if her father was like this, and if Auron used that same firm and unrelenting tone with him.

"Oh, I like watching. They're having fun."

He knows she wasn't watching them, but like every conversation they have, the real matter lies unspoken. She doesn't want him talk about it anyway. They have an understanding of death that most people don't. Still, it would be nice to hear what he thinks they look like.

"...It's pretty." She decides this is a fair enough line to cross. She always talks with Tidus about the future, about things she won't be able to do. That's because he _is_ life, and that's why she wants him by her side. He laughs and whistles and screams. Death is silent and deliberate and exacting.

Maybe that's why they know each other.

"Lives tend to be... colorful." There are five and six meanings in that. She is satisfied.

Tidus comes bounding up, and she doesn't have to concern herself with stars when the sun is up. The night steps aside, taking watch for yet another turn.

"Hey, so we heading out soon?" There is energy in Tidus's voice. Wakka looks a little tired.

"We have already lingered long enough. No time to waste."

"Ya, ya. If you were in charge we'd _never_ sleep."

She nods, half bowing in the way she'd always been taught. Press forward. Slip into the veil and maybe she could come to know which colors her stars will be.


	4. 2020

He knows they will fail.

The Crusaders and Al Bhed busying themselves all over the place will soon need to be Sent. Auron supposes that is a cold thing to think but the tired old metaphor he uses for lives is true in this case too. For the various nameless faces about him, it is the End.

He hopes Tidus is strong enough for it. He hopes Yuna will _see_.

"Will Sin come?"

Her question is the least idiotic one he has heard all day. Yuna's sense of perception is slowly peeking out from underneath the protocol that all of Spira appeases. Speak not unless spoken to. Wait for the spiral. The matter-of-fact answers she receives make him want to snarl his lip.

But then they do not know. They cannot see. 

_Will Jecht come to see his son?_

Tidus must be brave and know. Yuna will see and dance that dance she always does. He has become fond of the way she Sends. She is wind and freeform movement; the clouds after the storm, just wisps of their former selves.

---

The thunder that surrounds the return of Jecht is an irony. Or maybe there is some of Braska in there too.

He watches her blue eye go grey. Her hand covers her mouth. She will not cry even though she _wants_ to. He only briefly watches the onslaught; just enough to say hello. He waits for the flicker of lightning reflected on Yuna's face. Is there understanding?

Then, as an afterthought he notices the others. They are all spellbound.

---

Auron can tell she has seen.

He does not like the son of the Guado. Yuna tried to summon but he was resistant. She sees a little, knowing that the answer lies within her _gift_. He could feel the hum of those that are dreaming as she spoke; however desperate. But the son of the Guado was resistant.

He will keep his eye on that one.

Now Yuna is dancing and he can see the dim in her face. She will continue the pilgrimage. She will be set to learn her own answers. She does not voice her unease with the corruption that is slowly unfolding but she can see it. The presence of the Guado and the polite unease in her expression was a start.

Watching her dance on a dead beach is the real beginning.


	5. Lightning and Thunder

When she looks at Djose, Yuna feels very small. There are far grander temples, sure, but Djose stands over her like... like her father. He wasn't an imposing man. But then she was still very young the last time she saw him. A child's eyes are colored by perception.

She was always looking through a spyglass.

Ixion is gracious, but he only feels borrowed. The fayth looked at her with familiarity and she almost talks to him without respect. _Were you good to my father? Did you watch as--_ She isn't quite sure where rebellious thoughts like that come from.

She forgets to sleep because there is so much hurt around her. If she weren't a Summoner, she fancies she would be a healer. Always comfort. Revitalizing the living and easing the dead. Yuna wonders that if this were a world without Sin if there would be less smiles from the fatal. More fathers to come back home to their daughters.

She doesn't even feel the bed when she falls on it. All Yuna can think of in that moment is wonder. _Is this how it feels to Blitz?_

---

They laugh at her and she is the butt of the joke. They aren't being mean, she overslept, she should have been awake hours ago... but at least she can count on Sir Auron to not--

He laughs too.

Yuna feels her cheeks grow hot and her pulse in her fingertips. Not unlike the time she broke mother's favorite vase and she thought for sure she would be punished but then father just laughed and told her, he told her _Yuna, don't look so ashamed. You're not perfect._

She wasn't perfect? Funny how it took so long to understand that. You shouldn't tell a four year old that kind of thing.

The laughter is fleeting and Lulu is fussing over her and it's time to move on. Was he there that time she broke the vase? He seems to be the thunder. Always following the electricity, the lightning.

But Tidus is honestly laughing and she won't break today. She thinks that maybe Tidus helps him too.


	6. Water Metal

He tells Tidus the shoopuf story.

Water reflects. Like metal does but the reflection is off. Softer. Somehow the ripples in their distortion make it all seem like... a dream. Auron wants to scoff at that, but all he can hear is the inane babbling of that, that religion. That falsity. To think—no, he doesn't think. He cannot blame their faithfulness. Children are the most faithful.

Even if when he tells the story, he can see that the boy doesn't like hearing the truth. Some lose their faith earlier on then others. Fathers can have that effect.

"Sit down!"

Auron isn't a father but they listen to him like he is. It's almost ironic how easily they do. He need only raise his voice to Yuna or raise his eyebrow to Tidus.

In his musing, he almost misses her go into the water. And he can't dive in after her.

Maybe he should have learned to swim.

---

Unlike a father, he lets Yuna decide to keep the Al Bhed. He can see it in her mother's eye that she had chosen the moment the gangly little thing revealed herself. He is glad there are more children. The adults could use them.

The desert people were right. Maybe that was why Braska married her after all. He could sense that his God was dying and held onto someone that embraced life. Sometimes he wishes that she could have gone too. Maybe things would have been different if an Al Bhed had went along.

But he doubts that.

Yuna looks at him again, making sure he approves. The girl, Rikku, is already bouncing and fooling Wakka. But Yuna is asking in her silent way if he wants this coming along. He should tell her it has nothing to do with want, but duty.

She knows his nod and embraces the girl like a sister. Yes, this will be good for her.


End file.
